Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Lesotho and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Neil Young to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
the Soft Cell,
Deakin,
Hashim,
Audionom,
Simply Red,
The Velvet Underground,
Wally Richardson,
Agent Orange,
Swell Maps,
The Smoke,
Hasil Adkins,
Bobby Sherman,
FM Einheit,
Rod Modell,
The Cramps,
Inner City,
The Angels of Light,
Blancmange,
The Monks,
Soul II Soul,
K-Klass,
Moby Grape,
Nick Fraelich,
Todd Terry,
Alison Limerick,
Amazonics,
the Bar-Kays,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ultra Naté,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Byrd,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Swans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun City Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dennis Brown,
The Happenings,
cv313,
the Fania All-Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Outsiders,
Darondo,
Alphaville,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Derrick Morgan,
Adolescents,
Angry Samoans,
These Immortal Souls,
Slick Rick,
Procol Harum,
The Cure,
Nils Olav,
Jeff Lynne,
Motorama,
Traffic Nightmare,
Unrelated Segments,
Sonic Youth,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.